A Time For Indulgences
by Shizuka no Taisho
Summary: Their sharing company, much less an apartment-it was some weird, awkward indulgence. That's all it was. It wasn't about the sex. Maybe-maybe it was the company. Nobody else really knew that they existed. One of them supposed to have died in prison, the other lost to the streets and, probably, also assumed dead. Or maybe B just wanted to watch him die.


_That inexplicable feeling you have when you want to write something…..yeah. Felt it. I blame rock music, and my inability to write anything lately, due to officially being a working girl. Yup. Got a job, for all of you fuckers who aren't on DA and didn't already know XD But yeah. Writing. Had to do it. And I've been in a sarcastic, snarky mood all day, soooo…..say hi to Matt! And a new pairing that I've only indulged in in the past. _

**Disclaimer: dude. I don't own Death Note. I seriously thought that was obvious by now. I don't make any money off my writing either, and you fuckers should know that too. 'Cause if I did, I certainly wouldn't be working, and I damn well would have a lot more cosplays under my belt XD **

It was a fucked up arrangement. He fully admitted that. But their sharing company, much less an apartment-it was some weird, awkward indulgence. That's all it was. There wasn't anything remotely romantic about their living together, and sometimes he wondered if it was even about the sex. …..na. You can get sex anywhere. Each city has its fair share of strippers. Matt had seen them. No. This wasn't about the sex. Maybe-maybe it was the company. Nobody else really knew that they existed. One of them supposed to have died in prison, the other lost to the streets and, probably, also assumed dead. Nobody had tried to contact him since that day he ran out. Fuck, he hadn't even heard from Mello in years. His connections to anyone at Wammy's were shot through, and he was as alone as ever.

'Cept for him. The fucker taking up his couch, munching away on those weird, jam filled cookies the neighbor's kid had thrown his way for fixing their X-box. He hated sweets, so he wasn't too sorry to see them gone. It was pretty disturbing though, watching him eat. The cookie part crumbled, and the jam filled center spilled across thin lips, making grisly smears across his chin and jaw. Looked a lot like blood. Matt grimaced. Not like he hadn't seen the stuff before, especially since his company _was _a raging, psychopathic murderer. A murderer that enjoyed using his kitchen as some evil laboratory to conduct his freaky cooking experiments. And not drugs either. Drugs he could handle. Hell, he'd done a few. But this stuff….fuck, he was sure he'd seen a slab of ribs in the fridge one night, and they damn well didn't come from anything waltzing around on four legs.

But, as always with the Wammy children, they had a policy that kept them from asking stupid questions of each other. Everyone had their quirks. Though having a police record and a portfolio of bloody murders in your back pocket kept his lips pretty well sealed too.

"….you're gonna get fat, eating all those." Matt tossed his controller away. He wouldn't question the killer, but that damn well wouldn't stop him from making any snarky comments. Police records weren't _that _scary.

Devouring another cookie as he spoke, the psychopath in question lolled his head to the side and stared at him. It was really disturbing, what with his too white skin and lank hair. He looked like one of those weird, ball joint dolls, save for the burns. Those in question marred huge patches of his body, lending a nasty hint of color to his complexion. One section of the rough skin even covered the left half of his throat, creeping its way up onto his jaw. They were hideous, but Matt had seen far worse in his life. "Hm….? Fat?" A Cheshire grin spread across that gaunt mouth, revealing teeth flecked with jam, and fuck knows what else. "Maybe I should just eat something else then. Maybe….Shepherd's Pie? There's this delicious Irish recipe I've been wanting to try….."

It didn't take a genius to get what he was implying. Still, Matt dared to roll his eyes at the man, cracking open the beer at his side and taking a healthy swig. "Whatever B. Just make sure to clean up after yourself though. And for fuck's sake, label any leftovers! I almost ate that casserole you made last week."

B smirked. Matt thought it was a lot preferable to his smile, which looked like something a devil might wear. Or maybe death. Probably death. "You mean you didn't even try it? But Mail, I made it especially for you~! Extra meat and potatoes, just the way you like it." Reaching down, he pinched a good deal of the skin below Matt's ribs and gave it a hard squeeze. "We need to fatten you up, darling. You're entirely too skinny."

Matt couldn't help a small shiver when he was touched. Even through his clothes, he was sensitive, and B's fingers had a seemingly infinite knowledge of the human body, knowing just where to pluck, stroke. Anything to get a response. "Since when do you care about anyone's health? Last I checked, you had a taste for killing people. Not helping them." Swatting the hand away, he took another drink of beer, watching B sprawl out over his couch like some cat. An anorexic, rabid cat.

"Oh, I do. But the healthier someone is, the better they taste. It's all in the proper rearing," B dangled a leg off the couch and propped up his chin, scarlet eyes fixated on the redhead. "Why do you think jam tastes better when it's been made from homegrown strawberries, hmm? There's more care to it. Less pesticides and implanted drugs." He wrinkled his nose, and Matt felt an idle touch run down his spine, his striped shirt wrinkling underneath pallid fingertips.

"So you're…comparing feeding me to growing strawberries. ….Great." Green eyes flickered with a strange type of amusement that the maniac seemed to specialize in, causing and he elbowed the limb away, stunned that he was taking all this so well. Not many people could share a home with a known maniac and be considered sane themselves. Then again, was he sane? Matt wasn't too sure anymore. He was willingly sleeping with the same psychopath that lived with him, after all. And that couldn't be healthy. "Look B. I've told you before. Don't joke about killing me and cooking me into one of those fucked up travesties you consider food, alright? Gives me the creeps."

Especially since there was a good chance he would do it.

"Does it now?" For a small moment his look was contemplative, but then B grinned at him and draped one of those spidery arms over Matt's shoulder, fingers squeezing his upper arm. "Oh darling, don't be so paranoid! I wouldn't _really _cook you and kill you." Red eyes flickered, and that terrible leer grew bigger. "I don't like dog. Frankly, it's way too gamey for me. And so often the meat is so tough, you'd break your teeth trying to get a bite-" they squeezed tighter, and the redhead glowered at him over his shoulder. B snickered. "You're not worth the effort."

An insult and a compliment, all wrapped up and decorated with gory bows. "…thanks. I think." He left B's hand where it was, deciding moving it was pretty pointless. B touched what he wanted, and a cold shoulder would hardly dissuade him. Hell, it'd probably encourage him. Not something he really wanted to do. Grimacing, Matt took another swallow of beer, and half of it sputtered past his lips when the bottle was suddenly yanked away, and the lip swallowed into that grisly mouth above him. "H-hey!" Matt swore and snatched it back, liquid splashing his front and the couch cushions. "You want a drink? Go get your own! There's a whole other case in the fridge, plus some of your….tea." He used the word "tea" loosely. That junk looked a little _too _red to be the real thing, which was usually dark brown. B claimed it was blood tea. Yeah, sure. Emphasis on the BLOOD.

B was snickering now, and it didn't take a genius to see that he was amused. "So touchy. I just wanted a sip." Bending low at the waist, he slid his hand slowly up the back of Matt's nape, weaving it through the brick red locks of his hair and breathing a growl into his ear. "Didn't anyone teach you how to share…? You know you're more than welcome to MY things…."

Oh yeah. That he knew all too well. He'd found that out the day B crept into his home via the window, making it his very own fortress of evil. Matt was just the resident techie, and liable to be killed the moment he grew boring. Or too obnoxious. "Which 'things' are we talking about here? I thought you only had one." As always, he was unable to resist the quip. But it made the redhead smile, and damn if he wouldn't go through all this with some sense of humor. B kept his, so why not him? "Don't tell me. It's some freaky, otherworldly shit or something, right?

Ruby eyes grew a shade darker at that, and yet their psychopathic owner laughed. A dry, cackling laugh, but still. "Or something." The leg he'd thrown off the couch seemed to bend unnaturally at the knee, and then B was on the floor, knees touching Matt's left thigh and the hand in his hair gripping painfully tight. He didn't show any pain, offering a small grin instead.

"Why haven't I seen it before then? Not nice to hold out on people man. Makes you look like a tease." He leaned with the fingers as they tautened, alleviating some of the building pressure. He could feel every strand aching to its roots though, and the agony began to make his eyes water. Hopefully B wouldn't notice. Goggles were a useful shield.

"A tease?" Crooning the words, B thoughtfully hummed and drew his mouth down the redhead's ear, teeth plucking at the elastic strap behind them and nicking flesh. Matt hissed. "To be a tease, your actions have to be wanted. Enjoyed." He removed the space between them, until Matt's arm was pressed against his chest, and that move was moving away from his ear, down the side of his neck instead. He always got nervous when B did that. Those fangs he called teeth were way too close to a few very important veins and arteries. "Mm…." wet breath dampened the spot directly above his jugular, and B purred. "Do you enjoy them, Mail?"

The question of the hour. Answer no, and those teeth would go _snip snip_. Nightie night Matt. Say yes, and- "Since when have you ever cared about what I think? Huh?" Shifting his whole body, he decided to just lay back against the killer, give him leave to do whatever. Might as well, right? Denying him was like taking candy from a baby. Everything works fine and dandy, until the baby screams and throws a tantrum that alerts everyone within distance of the ear splitting tragedy going down. And no way was Matt letting his neighbors hear anything that might draw unwanted attention. B was a criminal. And he didn't exactly have a spotless record either. "You do what you want, when you want. You don't even stop for traffic lights!"

Leaning back proved eventful, as B drew his arms around him like a snare, trapping him close and pushing his free hand up the front of Matt's shirt. His skin was like fucking ice, and he shivered. "It gets me what I want. Maybe you should try it sometime." His nipple was pinched and rubbed into a taut, raw pebble, cold fingers deftly plucking it like a musician might the strings of his guitar. "Just think about it~! If you had, maybe you wouldn't be here, with me."

"Yeah? Where would I be then?" Matt bit back a groan. Damn him for making it feel good. "Back in England? No thanks."

The man behind him chuckled, digits slipping down his chest and lightly tracing the band of his boxers, always showing above his too loose jeans. "No no…..never there. I was surprised it took you so long to leave anyway!" B licked the whorl of his ear, sucking one of the loops into his mouth. "You'd be with _him_! Your precious _Mihael…" _

Matt didn't have time to mouth off. He was halfway turned around when the hand in his hair applied pressure, forcing his entire body against the floor with a hard thud. Near suffocated against the carpet, Matt swore and managed to get his head turned to the side, already feeling the pain of his sockets being abused as his goggles dug into the skin. The pain was nothing compared to the barb though, and he felt the familiar ache in his chest that always seemed to awaken when Mello was mentioned. "F-fuck you! I couldn't find him, and you know it! It's got nothing to do about what I want!" He had all the resources the world web could offer, but it was like the blond had dropped off the face of the earth. The last info he had on him was a book, and that predated his running away. Now, wherever he was, it was far out of Matt's scope. If he wasn't already dead. Or maybe he didn't want to be found. Not by him, not by anyone.

"Doesn't it?" How he did it, Matt didn't know, but B always seemed to read his mind. "Maybe you're too afraid. Too afraid of being-rejected." He said it like it was a dirty word, a mocking smile on his lips. "I bet that's why you stopped looking. You think that Melly would reject you all over again, even if you did manage to find him. He wouldn't want you, just like before." Sympathy colored his voice; Matt knew it was complete bullshit. "I know how that feels. Not being wanted….it can eat you up inside. Tear at your very _soul." _Sinuous as a snake, B slithered up behind him and pressed their bodies together, running a hand down his hip. "But you don't need to worry that, dear little Mail. I'll always want you."

"…..sure. Until you get bored." He wasn't sure what made him say it, but it was true nonetheless. Matt knew it, and B definitely did. The only reason the psycho stuck around was because he had nothing better to do. The second something new and exciting popped up, he'd be out the door. And Matt…fuck, he wasn't sure. Dead? Buried six feet under? Or maybe B would let him live, out of some fucked up respect for their history. Doubtful, but it was better than the any of his other ideas.

"Bored?" Unsurprisingly, B didn't deny it. Instead he seemed to mull it over, giving a dark smile as his irises shifted from red to deep, unyielding garnet. Or blood. Matt met them over his shoulder, his own Midori widening. Definitely blood. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. I won't leave you until it's time. And even then-" his gaze flickered upwards, drifting across the space an inch or so above fiery red locks. "You won't notice anyway."

He always got the creeps when B did that. It was disturbing, like he was looking at something, and it made Matt wonder. Was the story true? Did he really have the ability to see someone's death date? If so….what was his? Tempted to ask, he lifted his head from the floor, only to feel the fingers still trapped in his hair shift, pushing his goggles up and over his head. They fell to the floor with a clatter, and were promptly knocked away. "Much better," B sing songed the words, earning a shudder. "Not very nice, hiding those pretty eyes away Mail." Both of his hands scoped slender hips, moving back to cup even slighter thighs and push them apart. "Or all this….has anyone ever told you that you look delectable on your knees?"

"…..I feel like a dog." How ironic, considering his pet name was mutt. "And you know better. No real names. We were given fake ones for a reason. Just because you know mine through some freaky, supernatural means you refuse to share doesn't mean you get to use it whenever you want. Lesson 101. " Matt's grin turned sarcastic, and he leveled the brunette with a fiery gaze that could've rivaled any drink, liquored or not. "Didn't they teach you anything at Wammy's? Or did you fuck your education up too?"

The hand on his ass grew still, then squeezed hard, fingers looping through his belt and tugging it free. Matt heard the leather give, and the buckle fell with a hard thud to the floor. "Too? What else did I fuck up? Hm?" His pants were yanked open, boxers shoved down past his knees, and Matt gasped as his cock was taken in a vice grip, too stern to be considered playful. Oh no. B wanted to hurt him, for his fucking loose tongue. Jesus. It was too easy to forget sometimes that his roommate was a temperamental _murderer_. "Come come Mail, you were so eager to speak before! What happened?" B wasted no time, roughly beginning to jerk him off in uneven strokes, and each one, try as he might, made the redhead get harder and harder. "Not afraid of me, are you…?"

Matt hissed through his teeth, trembling hard. "N-not a chance." And he wasn't. At this point, he didn't even fear death. "You're not that scary…"

"Then what-" SLAP. The pallid hand not on his cock roughly slapped his inner thigh, punctuating the words, and every one to come. "Did-you-MEAN. Because from my angle, dear Mail, it seems you're the one who's done a grand job of fucking things up." Another slap, and B bit his neck, drawing blood to the surface and lapping it away with a tongue that felt like sandpaper. "Look at you…alone in the world, save for little old me to keep you company. Your best friend, your love, _abandoned _you. Your only comforts are games, and all those pills you try to keep hidden in your dresser drawer." At Matt's startled groan, he licked the redhead's cheek. "You thought I didn't know? Oh darling~! I could tell you things that would make your pretty little head spin." Fingertips smeared blood down his throat, and B leaned back, looking thoughtful. "Not too pretty though. I bet you figured that out the hard way, hm? Nobody wants a skinny nobody." His smile turned cruel. "Especially when they have to pay for it."

His entire body seemed to sting from the barb, or maybe it was the smacks, but Matt managed to keep his wits about him enough to rear his head back and glare at B for all he was worth. "Yeah? You wanna call me out like that? Fine. Go right ahead. But while you do, go take a look in the mirror. You look like a reject from Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Just uglier." A dangerous spot he was putting himself in, and yet Matt continued on. He never did like getting hit, much less have his secret habits thrown in his face. He accepted his fucked up reality, and he'd deal with it his own way, thank you. "How much gasoline did you use anyway? 'Cause by the looks of things, not enough." Matt gave a dry laugh. "Funny. Here I thought you were actually _trying _to kill yourself. That's what Mello wrote in his book." The book everyone at Wammy's had gotten a copy of, and read like the fucking bible. It'd left him feeling pretty desolate, the writer being his lost best friend, but knowledge was power-if you believed the bureaucrat bullshit Roger had always tried to shove down their throats. "Huh? You were so damn eager to end it, why didn't you just completely douse yourself? Or did you just pussy out towards the end?" The fingers on his cock loosened, and Matt took advantage, prying them off and rolling onto his back, never letting their eyes lose one another. "Too afraid to meet death head on, B?"

B stared at him, blinking slowly, a crooked smile taking perchance of his mouth and twisting it upwards. "…..I used enough gasoline to burn this whole building to ground. It just….wasn't my time." He gave a little purr, rubbing a hand up Matt's thigh and over his waist, ignoring the final question as if it held no meaning. "Funny thing, time. You never know when it's going to run out. When your good friend Death will come knocking." Flitting his eyes a few inches upward, the madman grinned. "And by you, I mean YOU."

Well…that was probably the only confirmation Matt would ever get to the eyes question. Accepting the new information with a blunt ease he'd always seemed to possess, he pushed the elder away and fished for his beer bottle, hearing the dull swish of liquid inside. He barely even noticed his pants were gaping open, or that his cock was close to falling out. He'd lost whatever hard on he'd had anyway. "Whatever B. You can't intimidate me, and you know it. It's one of the few things we've got in common." Shrugging, Matt tilted the bottle to his lips. "Give it up already."

"No-I suppose I can't, can I?" Watching him, B moved fast and pinned Matt to the floor. The bottle rolled away, beer trickling from his lips, but neither paid it much mind. "But you know what they say. Try and try again, and you will succeed." His eyes flickered with the phrase, lips drawn back in a growl as he bent low, applying them to the hollow of Matt's throat and breathing on the skin. Marking it, it seemed. Not out of some depraved sexual need. Neither of them seemed particularly inclined to fuck anymore. The mood was over. This was just….insanity. The bastard was merely sharing it, the only way he knew how. "You know what this is, right? What you are?" B smiled, teeth completely bared and glinting wetly. "An indulgence. That's all you ever were, to any of us. Roger, Melly, me. And do you know _why_ any one of us has ever kept you around?" Leaning closer, he hissed into the redhead's ear. "We're all just _dying _to see when you'll finally give up. Run out of steam. See that the drugs and alcohol are just a shield to keep all your pain on mute. But one day, your clock's gonna wind down, little dear." He sneered. "And I'll be the only one who gets to see it."

Matt tasted blood in his mouth. He'd bit his inner cheek. Yet pain was nothing compared to the whirlwind of emotions spiraling through his skull, and he blankly stared at the man pinning him down, who looked too goddamn pleased with himself. "….yeah? That so, B?" Laughter bubbled past his lips, sticky with blood. "Cool. When I do finally drop dead, I'll make sure to save you a seat in Hell. We can be bunkmates." Reeling his head back, he spat the coppery fluid out and smirked when it splattered B's face from temple to chin, outlining those creepy eyes in gore. Fucking suited him, the psychotic bastard. "Want me to tell Satan you send your love? I bet he misses you. Not too many willing sluts in Hell that'll actually go so far as to douse themselves in fucking _gasoline _and light up for kicks. Most pussy out halfway through. But not you." Matt smirked, his eyes like shattered emerald chips, hard and cold. "Na. Never YOU."

He didn't bother giving B time to retort. Matt had a surefire tongue, sure, but there were only so many ways he could call the bastard a hell spawn fuck up born from the gaping black hole between Lilith's legs. That got old pretty quick. He had a limited attention span anyway. "You were right about something though." Roughly shoving him away, he smiled dully and picked himself up, dusting the back of his jeans. "That whole thing about being an indulgence…you know, I wonder every goddamn day whether or not you're right? Whether I was just some stupid amusement he wanted to keep around to pass the time?" Matt laughed, bitter. "But with you? I don't have to wonder. I KNOW. I am just an indulgence. I've known that since you stumbled in here, took over my apartment." Not a lie. Hadn't he just been thinking about this shit earlier? "You wanted someone to keep you company. To keep you _amused_. For now, that's me." Shrugging his shirt back up his shoulders, Matt looked at B, who was still on the floor, also looking at him, and they seemed to deadlock for a moment, silent.

B wanted to watch him die. Matt wanted-companionship. It was better than being alone, when all he had were the drugs and endless nights to keep him company. The stakes would probably change once his invisible clock ticked ever closer to his doom, but for now, ignorance was bliss. Matt could face the world, and he wanted to do it as sober and clear headed as possible, right up until shit got too tough to manage. Then, maybe, he could get B to kill him. Only if he hadn't found Mello yet though.

Halfway into the kitchen before he realized he'd even been walking, Matt started with his hand on the fridge door. There was another set of fingers already on it, pale and long and resembling twigs more than anything human. "You have such a grisly mind, Mail…" B pressed against him, chest flush to Matt's shoulders. It would've been affectionate, if not for his history, and theirs together as of late.

"You admitting to being a mind reader now?" Settling back without really meaning to, he saw piercing red fixated on his jaw. No, not his jaw. His eyes. Above them. Higher. An inch above the crown of his head, where his hair feathered out into unruly strands. "….you see something there, don't you."

A fact. No question, and they both knew it.

"I already told you." B hugged his waist in a gesture of comfort. It was scary instead. A boa constrictor tightening his hold on the prey trapped between his coils. "Your clock. It always fluctuates when you think of depressing things…like him. Keeps losing time. Tick, tick….tick…"

He imagined he could hear it. A loud ticking that broke the awkward silence between them, gears slowly turning above his head, ready to slice him open the first second he made a wrong move. A pretty grisly outlook, he knew, but his outlook on life had been pretty dark ever since Mello left. Having B around didn't help matters any. He was probably one step away from getting locked up in the loony bin, arms all cozy in a straight jacket. Not the most pleasing mental image, but it made him crack a smile nonetheless. "And you're just gonna stand back, aren't you? Watch it end." Stumbling, Matt felt his smile break for a split second. "…watch me die."

"Mmm….perhaps." Simple as that. No disagreeing, no arguing. B just smirked in that way that made Matt's blood run cold, pulling gently at his waist. "Who knows though? You've got a while before we need to worry about that. And fate never hinges on one sole person. There's always others involved." Snickering under his breath, he tugged harder at Matt, drawing him back a few steps. Their skin was like ice and fire against each other, and he could all but feel the holes being gouged into the back of his head. The air above it too. "It's not out of your hands yet, Mail. Keep your eyes peeled. You never know what you might-miss, otherwise…"

Matt frowned, turning to ask him something. His lips were stifled by B's though, and he was only half aware of his cell phone going off in his pocket, a ring tone he hadn't heard in years. One he thought he'd never hear again, if he was honest with himself. 'Cause only a few handful of people had his number, and most wouldn't waste a damn second of their time calling it, since he was presumed dead anyway. That only left one. What the-? "B, get off! It's-"

A tongue lapped at his lower lip, and the red eyed maniac leaned away, watching him with a disturbing interest. A madman in the throes of insanity. "Well, what do you know! I think I was wrong, darling. A while passed by pretty quick! I guess it's time…" and he looked up, laughing cruelly at whatever it was he was seeing. As if Matt even had to ask. He knew, B knew-they both had a perfect understanding, even if some subconscious part of himself didn't want to admit it. "I wish I could show you….the numbers-they're vanishing so quickly. It's like you're broken." Another cold laugh, and he was pulling Matt back with him, out of the kitchen down the hall, and into the bedroom, fingers knotting deep into the redhead's tresses. "Tick tick…..I can't believe one little anomaly affects you so much. Are you that susceptible, Mail? Hmm? Or is it just because he's special?"

"He? What the fuck are you talking about! B, c'mon. I need to answer my phone! What if it's something important? What if it's-"

"We both know what it is, little dear." Holding him tighter, lest he try to escape, Matt was practically dragged into the bedroom and tossed against the bed, spidery fingers fishing the cell from his pocket. B peered at the number illuminated in bright blue text on the screen, and his laughter soared throughout the apartment, loud as demon wings beating against fragile glass. "Death's knocking at your door. Do you _really _wanna answer?" The phone went silent, then started up again, a deafening jingle to Matt's ears. He gaped at it, shifting his eyes slowly to B. "Oh my. Looks like he's eager to have you. Must be your time to go." Sighing, dramatic as always, B tossed the phone away and kneeled on the bed before Matt, lips seeking out his neck. "Should we indulge one last time? After this, there's no going back…..you're gonna run out of time. I can't stop it, you can't stop it." He grinned, licking quivering skin. "Not that I want to. I've always loved a good romance story. Especially the ones that end in tragedy."

Leaning his head back, Matt shuddered. One part of him bade he ignore the phone, throw it out the window and forget that he'd ever heard that fucking ring tone. His dreams were coming true. He didn't have to be alone anymore. But if he picked up, and what B said was true…..

"…one last time? What, you gonna leave me if I answer? Thought you were sticking around to watch the show?"

B leered at him. "Direct interference is a no no, Mail. Do you want the reaper coming after me too? Nooo….I'll be watching from the sidelines. But don't worry," he draped himself across the smaller male, pushing his jeans down. "I'll make sure nothing happens to your poor, defenseless systems. I'll get you a nice plot of dirt too. I think there's a spot beside Lawli, if you're interested?"

His phone went off again. He knew he should pick up, accept his fate. 'Cause now that it was happening-he couldn't say no. Wouldn't. Not when the alternative was more of this. Being alone, save for the company of a raging lunatic that would gladly bury him sex feet under for the lols. No way. He made his own goddamn choices, and fate could take his scythe and shove it right up his bony ass, for all Matt cared. "Fuck the plot. That's Mello's thing. I wanna be cremated." Throwing his arms around B's neck, he dragged the maniac close and met his ruby eyes, taking his own handful of rotting black and tugging, hard. "Let's indulge." While his clock grew weary, time creeping ever closer to the end. Marking their existence-his death.

Tick, tick.

He grit his teeth, smiled faintly, and accepted the kiss B forced on him. One last time couldn't hurt. Until he picked up, he had all the time in the world anyway.

…..tick.


End file.
